


If Things Were a Little Different (Fictober 2018)

by cipherninethousand



Series: Two is Better Than One [5]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-07-27 10:30:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16217186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cipherninethousand/pseuds/cipherninethousand
Summary: Various drabbles from my Two is Better Than One universe, establishing the changes to KoTFE/KOTET canon with two Outlanders, my smuggler Taedra and her consular brother, Mas'il.





	1. Can You Feel That?

**Author's Note:**

> This is between SoR and Ch 16 of KoTFE, so Theron and my smuggler don’t get along very well. She’s not overly fond of him to begin with and being part of her brother’s (Mas’il’s) merry band of fugitives hasn’t helped too much. Yet.
> 
> What Taedra looks like, for reference:
> 
> http://cipherninethousand.tumblr.com/post/173169118719/oc-series-two-is-better-than-one-37
> 
> You can join me on Tumblr! http://cipherninethousand.tumblr.com

“How can you not feel that?” Taedra demands. “It’s a vortex stabilizer, Shan.  They’re big even in a ship this small.  You’re acting like I asked you to find a monkey lizard in the jungle.”

Theron glares back at her (though the effect is somewhat ruined by his being half-in a service hatch), “Hey, I’m a slicer, not – ow!” he howls, jerking back as electricity crackles across his knuckles. “If you can manage to get this fixed, oh wise one.” He grumbles.

With a roll of her eyes, Taedra shoves towards the panel.

“What?”

“Move.”

“There isn’t a chance in hell that you’re getting your montrals in there.”

Tilting her head, Taedra puts her montrals on the same level as Theron’s shoulder; the sharp tips are uncomfortably close to his jacket. “You were saying?”

Theron throws his hands up and takes exactly two steps backwards.  It’s not much, but it will do.  Taedra shuffles a little closer to the section of panel.  The service hatch still hangs open.  Something is sparking still.  She ignores it in favor of the larger panel, and after a few seconds of grating silence, the captain raises her fist to strike it neatly in three places. The panel groans, pops, then in a screech of metal clangs to the deck.  Quick as that Taedra gestures to the (rather large) vortex stabilizer, still sparking. “Can you feel that, Theron?  Or are you going to tell me that you can’t reach it?”

“ _All right_.  I deserve that.  Now can we fix the damn thing so we can get back to Odessen?”


	2. Queen's Bluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her court is a warehouse, her only throne made of cargo crates. Still, Risha’s had worse odds, and she learned to bluff from the best. An alternate spin to Risha’s fate in KoTFE, where Risha is actively pursuing the throne of Dubrillion.

In a near-empty warehouse outside of Emassaa City, there’s a court of thieves, liars, and murderers. At least, that’s what Dubrillion’s news would say.  King Actavarus has denounced them, these liars who follow their usurper Queen of scoundrels, who claims to be of House Drayen.  Does it matter who’s really doing the lying?

To the Queen of Scoundrels, it means everything.

So, her court may only be a warehouse, but in truth, it’s not what Actavarus makes it out to be.  For now, she has only a throne of cargo crates. But it will not stop her from holding audience.  Risha sits as straight as she can manage (the damn crate  _wobbles_ ), waiting until her fellows bring the prisoner. He’s not a young man, this prisoner, nor has age favored him.  Minister Sarrell, one of the last of the King’s nobles is a paunchy, sour faced man – once, his face may have been called handsome.  It would have paired well with the wispy strands of red when it covered his entire head.  Not so now.

Like so many since she came to Dubrillion, Sarrell glares at Risha like she’s unpleasant.  A peon who dares to speak to her betters.

She doesn’t let it phase her, instead letting Sarrell’s hatred wash over her. “People like you have no imagination, Sarrell,” She says primly. “Are you sure I’m just an upstart now?”

Sarrell spits at Risha’s feet.  He’s sneering at her, and it stretches the bruise darkening the left side of his face. But none of it – not the blasters pointed at him, nor the rebels that surround him – none of it bothers him, save Risha herself, and only enough for him to spit and sneer.  

“You are nothing more than an upstart!  A tart who would drag us back to ancient times because you claim to have the blood of a tyrant in your veins.  Drayen.  Ha.” He spits again.

Behind her, Corso starts forward, but Risha waves him off.  She flicks her hand absently, as if the man is a mere annoyance.  Her guards shove Sarrell to his knees.  One holds a blaster to his temple.  Another one presses into his back.  In an instant, the color drains from his face.  

“Risha?” Corso asks. He’s reluctantly raised his own blaster against the former minister but looks to her.

Her face is impassive, her eyes taking in Sarrell’s sweating, shaking form as he looks up at her pleadingly. There is nothing to say.  Risha’s hand drops.  A blaster barrel digs into Sarrell’s temple, the hum of idle energy thunderous in the silent warehouse.

“Wait!  Wait, please, I’ll do anything you ask.”

One last time Risha flicks her hand, the blasters gone.  She still manages to look bored, if only for a moment until she gets gracefully to her feet to pace in front of Minister Sarrell in long strides. “See, Corso?  No imagination.” Her attention shifts to Sarrell, who is now sobbing. “You expected to die because it is what Actavarus would do. Because my ancestor was a tyrant, I would be too.  But I am not him.  I am the  _rightful_  Queen.  You, your usurper, all of you are tyrants and I will make sure that Dubrillion is free of you.”  Risha punctuates her declaration by gripping Sarrell’s chin in her fist, baring her teeth.

When she lets go the guards drag Sarrell away for questioning.  The remainder of the rebels scatter until it’s just Corso and Risha left. In the few steps it takes for Corso to reach her, Risha’s trembling.  Even so, she manages a laugh.

“How did I do?”

Corso claps her on the shoulder. “I think that was a bluff Tae would have been proud of.”


	3. Trust Issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When there’s an extra Outlander, things are a little weird for Koth. And she’s had about enough of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Taedra's appearance: http://cipherninethousand.tumblr.com/post/173169118719/oc-series-two-is-better-than-one-37
> 
> Join me on Tumblr! http://cipherninethousand.tumblr.com

No sooner than Lana has left camp with Mas’il does Taedra pitch the remainder of her ration bar into the fire, pushing herself to her feet with a glare. “Don’t you have anything better to do, Vortena?  I know there’s not a lot of aliens here but kriffing shit!  You’ve been staring at me since we left the Spire!”

Koth doesn’t answer her. He simply continues to watch her with the same steady gaze he’s had for three days.  The silence stretches between the two captains for a few moments longer, until Taedra storms off to the Gravestone.  Even if it is some mythical warship, she wants off this forsaken rock.  The Spire might have had more gunfire, but at least there she hadn’t had boots full of muck or gotten stuck with whatever else had turned the galaxy to shit.

Four years.

She can only think it’s worse for Mas – when he was captured, the Republic was still free. Once they get off Zakuul, she’s taking him into hiding, then finding her crew.  Easy steps.  When she enters the Gravestone a heavy hand falls on her shoulder.

“Wait,” Koth says.

Taedra only shrugs off his hand. “I’m perfectly capable of working on a ship.  Now leave me alone.”

“Look, we need to talk. How can I trust you?  You’re the –“ His hands fall to his sides. “I mean, you gotta know what your reputation’s like on Zakuul.  You’re the Dissenter!  The reason war came to Zakuul.”

That…didn’t go where she was expecting. Tae holds up a hand, halting the words tumbling from Koth’s mouth – something about war and rebellion and she’s not sure what else.  “Let’s get something straight.  Whatever your ‘benevolent’ emperor told you, I didn’t come to Zakuul to start wars. I came to find my brother and take him home.”

Several thoughts flash across Koth’s face in a myriad of expression until it finally clicks.

“Wait, the  _Outlander_?”

“That’s the one,” Tae says flatly.

Koth has the decency to look sheepish.


	4. Status: KIA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Jorgan family has vehemently protested the Republic’s declaration that Mas’il was KIA, but Chancellor Saresh is firm in her beliefs. For Fictober Day 4 ‘Will that be all?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Taedra's appearance: http://cipherninethousand.tumblr.com/post/173169118719/oc-series-two-is-better-than-one-37
> 
> Colonel Rnax-Jorgan: http://cipherninethousand.tumblr.com/post/173113368779/oc-series-two-is-better-than-one
> 
> Join me on Tumblr! http://cipherninethousand.tumblr.com

“Will that be all, Colonel?” Chancellor Saresh asks.

While her tone is always even and calm, this time, Saresh’s voice is downright icy as she regards the little group standing in her office.  Two of Havoc’s finest soldiers, Colonel Rnax-Jorgan (a twi’lek,) Major Aric Jorgan, and a Togruta smuggler in a raggedy jacket.

“Colonel?” Saresh repeats.  The colonel goes ramrod straight for a moment.  She catches a subtle flick of the woman’s lekku, but Chancellor Saresh doesn’t respond in kind.  Finally, the Jorgans salute her, if reluctantly. “Good.” Saresh forces her expression into a softer one. “I’m sorry for your loss, and I hope you understand that I can’t afford to use more resources into a search for your son’s body when we’re at war.  The Barsen’thor’s status will remain KIA.”

Apparently, the smuggler has none of her parents’ restraint.  She lunges forward, slamming her hands on the polished surface of the wide desk.  “You can’t do this!”

“I can and I did, Captain Riggs.”

“My brother isn’t dead!”

Major Jorgan pulls his daughter back, murmuring.  The smuggler struggles.  Then, she slumps, weakly repeating that her brother is alive.

“We’ll pretend that this little outburst didn’t happen, shall we?  Colonel Rnax, Major Jorgan, take care of your son’s affairs and then you are to report for duty.”

“We understand.  Thank you for your time, Chancellor.” Colonel Rnax says, her voice tight.


	5. Take What You Need (Yours are Different From Mine)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The council wants the Hero of Tython to give up her daughter along with her husband. What she’s done for them no longer matters, but she doesn’t want to stay. Set prior to the beginning of KOTFE, but immediately post-Yavin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prethalo's appearance: http://cipherninethousand.tumblr.com/post/173202864001/oc-series-two-is-better-than-one-47

The Council stares at Prethalo with passive faces.  Even their emotions are tightly contained in the Force, but that no longer brings her the peace it once did.  Not now that she knows the truth.  Peace isn’t necessarily a lie but the ‘peace’ that the Jedi preach certainly is.

“Fine,” She says, and why does it still hurt?

Since this…since they found out about Doc, about their tiny daughter with her mother’s green skin, the Council has been pestering her about a decision – which, as it turned out, wasn’t much of a decision at all.  Give up your daughter to the Jedi.  If she isn’t attuned to the Force, she’ll be sent away at twelve.  And, stars, she’s seen what happens there.

Prethalo hasn’t actually met Theron Shan, but she won’t risk her daughter being left to fend for herself.  She couldn’t.

She bows to the Council. “As of right now, my time with the Jedi Order is over.  I’ll collect my things.”

One master surges forward – Master Kaeden’s replacement, a Sullustan that Prethalo doesn’t know – scowling at her. “Sanctions,” She snaps, “It would be an injustice to just let her walk away, Grandmaster.  She has flouted every tenet of our order and dared to take a Sith on her crew!”

“Peace, Master Nuuv.” Satele says.

From his ship, the Barsen’thor’s scowl isn’t missed simply because he’s taking part via holo; Mas’il gently reminds Master Nuuv that _he_ is a Pureblood, and her prejudice has no place here.

Nuuv sniffs wetly. “My apologies, Master Jorgan, but you are not a Sith!”

“If I may, Grandmaster,” when Satele nods, he continues, “Knight Lannah has been a shining example of our order, if not a strict adherent to our tenets as Master Nuuv has said.  If she no longer wishes to be a Jedi we should give her what she’s earned.  Her ship, her crew.  Her service to the Republic can’t be overlooked.”

After a long moment of silence, Master Satele brings it to a vote.  The Barsen’thor votes in her favor, and surprisingly so does the majority of the Council.  There’s something to be said for all the Jedi she’s saved, Prethalo thinks. 

They give her an hour to gather her belongings before she must return to her ship.

There isn’t much.  There never has been, not really.  She’s been in the field for years, and with her own ship most of her things are there.  Still, there are the few items she’d brought with her from Mirial.  Mostly it’s old armor and training gear that Prethalo doesn’t want.  She scoops up her personal items (a ring from her parents and a pendant her twin had made) and a single outfit that she wants to keep.  The door hisses open behind her.

“Prethalo.”

“Don’t trust me not to take things, Master Satele?” She tried to be flippant.

The Grandmaster doesn’t laugh. “I’m sorry this happened.”

“No.  No, I don’t think you are.  You’re only sorry that you’re losing a Knight.”

Satele sighs, loudly enough that Prethalo turns to face her.  Her lightsabers jostle on her belt.  Oh.  _Oh_.  That’s it.  The Jedi might let Prethalo keep most of her things, but she knows they won’t let her keep her sabers.  Not when they are the symbol of the order she’s leaving.  That hurts more than anything.  She plucks the sabers from her belt and holds them out to Satele (willing her hands not to shake).

Shit, she’ll have to learn a new weapon.

Maybe Kira will know where to collect some pieces.  She can make new ones, ones that are truly hers.

Satele smiles sadly at her. “No, Prethalo, take what you need.” She settles her hands over Prethalo’s. “I think you’ll need these now more than you ever have.”

Prethalo grips the sabers tightly (and unconsciously) as though Satele will take them away.

“I know you think I don’t understand, but I understand better than you think.  _I_ needed to stay with the Order.  _You_ need to stay with your child.”  Satele squeezes her hands once before they fall back to her sides, then pivots on her heel.  The door hisses shut behind her.


	6. Untitled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Jedi are better at suppressing trauma than dealing with it. Luckily, the Barsen’thor has a family who knows what he needs. Now if only they can convince Lana of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are too many Jorgans for Lana to keep straight! Everywhere she looks, a Jorgan.
> 
> This is the result of taking the 'adoption' option in the trooper's 'children' conversation with Aric. I develop whole universes out of this stuff.
> 
> The matriarch, Cyr Jorgan: http://cipherninethousand.tumblr.com/post/173113368779/oc-series-two-is-better-than-one
> 
> Daughter, Taedra Jorgan: http://cipherninethousand.tumblr.com/post/173169118719/oc-series-two-is-better-than-one-37
> 
> Son, Mas'il Jorgan aka the Barsen'thor: http://cipherninethousand.tumblr.com/post/179505698839/babymas-vs-current-mas-and-by-baby-i-mean

“Beniko!”

Lana looks up at the sudden voice to see Major Aric Jorgan loitering near the disaster that is her desk.  “Major, I really don’t have the time.”

“Only need a second,” Jorgan says, crossing his arms, “Mas’il needs a break, a real one.”

“We’ve only just gotten established and I can’t – ”

“I know my son.  He’s in danger of a complete breakdown.” Jorgan replies.

Lana sighs.  Major Jorgan (she’s taken to referring to the whole blasted family by rank just to keep them straight) isn’t wrong, nor is he the only Jorgan to point out the Commander’s fragility.  Captain Riggs has been rather vocal as well. “With respect, the Commander is a grown man.”

“A grown man with trauma,” Jorgan retorts. “You’re not going to have an Alliance at all if your commander’s constantly two steps from a mental breakdown!”

“And what would you suggest I do?  Technically, we’re all fugitives.  You can’t just whisk him off to Force knows where for treatment!”

“Three days – have Theron take him off world, no missions.  Low contact.  You’d be surprised how much it will help.”

She stares at the Major, then at the pile of work that’s grown since the conversation started.  She can think of a dozen missions that could use Mas’il’s expertise, but maybe –

“Beniko, I’m asking for an answer as a courtesy.  If you don’t –”

“All right!  I heard enough, this ends now.” Lana says, throwing up her hands. “Three days.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to find Captain Riggs so that we don’t go completely under!”


	7. Stay With Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zakuul’s march runs the clock down on everyone. It’s made Saganu more worried than ever, no matter how capable his red flame is. But Ghiatas has always had a habit of doing the unexpected - now is no exception. 
> 
> Pairing: Aristocra Saganu/female Chiss agent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ghiatas appearance: http://cipherninethousand.tumblr.com/post/167998269269/ghiatas-one-of-my-alt-agents-who-romanced

“No worries, sir.  We still have time!” His assistant says brightly.

Though Saganu respects the man’s optimism, the tone doesn’t match the look in the lieutenant’s eyes.   It only confirms what everyone already knows: they are most certainly _out_ of time.  Reports flood their command center every hour.  And to the man’s credit there are things that Saganu could do - evacuation protocols for civilians, mobilization of their military, and information from Ascendancy spies that he can put to use.  But as the stars run red, what’s the point?  Zakuul’s grip on the galaxy – on Imperial, Republic, and even Hutt worlds – is growing tighter, casualty lists swelling as they march further with their damnable fleet.

Saganu clenches his teeth against the despair, then looks over the room once more. “Lieutenant, keep monitoring the reports.  I want to know the instant our scouts return.”

“Of course, Aristocra.”

A flurry of whispers follows Saganu to his office.  It’s too much.  For a moment, he wishes that he were again on Hoth.  Things had made sense there.  There had been no impossible odds there, only spycraft and his own _red flame_.  There’s a holo of her on his desk, which captures her small smile, but fails to show what Saganu remembers.  The softness of her blue curls in his fingers, the warmth of her grey-hued skin. 

He hasn’t heard from her in weeks.

That is far from unusual.  In all the years he’s known her, in the time they’ve been together their contact is…sporadic at best, and actual time in the same room practically nonexistent.  No matter how capable Ghiatas is, Zakuul’s declaration of war makes him worry.  He checks his messages again.  Nothing.  And nothing to be done about it except to go on with his work.

Something shifts just out of sight.

Saganu reaches for his blaster.  Now that he’s paying attention he notices several small things moved on his desk, slightly, but perhaps deliberately.  He moves forward to check on a datapad.  Quick as a flash the intruder steps in behind him.  He pivots, aiming to pin them while the intruder lunges for his blaster.  They struggle and the blaster clatters to the floor.  Saganu isn’t far behind; the person crouches neatly over him, their face shadowed by a gray hood.

“This wasn’t quite the type of activity I had in mind for our reunion.”

Saganu freezes. “Ghiatas?”

He can’t see her smile because of a black scarf, but her cheek twitches. “You were expecting the Emperor?” Ghiatas sniffs, “I’m hurt, love.  I’m much more attractive.”

“Stars. I hadn’t heard from you in months, I thought –”

Ghiatas shifts again, just enough for Saganu to sit up.  Her posture has gone tense and she seems wary now, as if he would reject her.  Never.  Instead, he slips his fingers under the hood, pushing the scarf away so that he can sink his fingers into Ghiatas’s hair.  It’s soft as he remembers.  Suddenly desperate, Ghiatas lunges forward to kiss him, warming him, distracting him, but not so much that he misses the tears on her cheeks when she pulls away.

He strokes her cheek, sitting in the easy silence until Ghiatas meets his eyes again, mulling over questions.  Mostly about the tears.  There’s part of him that wants to know about her sudden appearance, but he asks another instead. “When do you have to report back?”

“Never.  I’m done with the Empire.” She says, voice soft.

His heart soars.  Ghiatas’ wariness suddenly makes more sense.  Saganu takes her hands in his and draws them both to their feet, drawing her close.  However, Ghiatas isn’t done.

“Intelligence is scattered.  Lana’s disappeared, and there are rumors of her going after the Barsen’thor, or that she’s taken up piracy.  With Zakuul, I…I wanted to be home.”

“Will you stay with me, then?” He asks.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

 


	8. Pins and Needles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Doc waits on pins and needles for his wife’s return on Tython, the whole crew is at a loss. What will they do if Prethalo doesn't return?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place immediately after Take What You Need.
> 
> Join me on Tumblr! http://cipherninethousand.tumblr.com

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that the whole crew is restless.  Doc, Kira, T7.  Even their pillars of stoicism, Scourge and Rusk have gathered around the holo, waiting.  But Doc’s not worried (he is), Prethalo wouldn’t choose the damn stodgy Jedi over them.  Well, maybe she would over Scourge and Rusk, though he doesn’t think so, and who could resist the pudgy bundle of cute in Doc’s arms? 

Arina may not have been exactly what came to mind when he’d brought up the idea of ‘little Docs’ but she is, in every sense of the word, cute.  How could she leave this, leave them?

As if Arina senses the mood in the room, she flails in her blankets and lets out a piercing shriek.  Ow.  That’s okay, he didn’t need that eardrum.  The rest of the crew looks uncomfortable for a moment, save Kira.  She opens her mouth to speak, to make light of the growing dread in the room, but she falters when the airlock hisses open.

Doc hugs Arina a little closer.  With each ringing step up the stairs, the tension in the room grows, each of them pretending not to watch the door until finally, Prethalo enters the comm center.  She looks startled for a moment.

“Kira, would you get us out of here please?”

The tension shatters but no one moves, even Kira.

“They’re letting me stay?” She asks, voice softer than Doc’s ever heard it.

“Thanks to Master Jorgan.  Kira, _please_.”

The young knight claps Prethalo on the shoulder on her way out, and soon, the others follow, seemingly content that nothing’s changed.  Only their tiny family remains, and Prethalo is _here_ , so why can’t he shake the prickling sensation from his skin?  Arina fusses in her blankets again.  It’s enough to jerk Prethalo out of her sudden stupor – she rushes at Doc and just as quickly they’re are wrapped in a tight embrace, Prethalo tucking her head against his shoulder.

“I love both of you _so much_.” Prethalo whispers, voice breaking.

“I…I know you do, Pre.  You gave up everything for us.”

Prethalo laughs wetly, stroking Arina’s cheek. “You’re a fair trade.”


End file.
